


21

by GreatPretending



Category: Glee
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, One Shot, bartender!kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatPretending/pseuds/GreatPretending
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night of his twenty-first birthday, Blaine embarrasses himself in front of the cute bartender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	21

Blaine had been living in New York since he was eighteen. Attending NYU, he spent the school year living in the dorms and, desperate to avoid going home to Ohio, spent breaks crashing on friends’ couches. In return for living with them rent-free, he did most of the housework and cooking. One summer, when he could afford it, he rented a seedy week-to-week apartment.

Now, it was the summer before his senior year of college, and he was in the process of moving into his first real apartment. It was small--tiny, really--but it didn’t reek of cigarettes and the next door neighbors weren’t constantly screaming at each other. All in all, it was a good step up from his previous living situations, and Blaine was glad to be taking it.

His roommate was his friend Sam. Sam had been a fellow NYU student. He’d attended a year and a half at the college with an undecided major, then left the school to pursue a career in modelling. It didn’t take long for Sam to become aware of the dangerous norms practiced by the modelling students, however, and he soon dropped out of the program. Since then, Sam had picked up a full-time gig at a local popular pizza place. Delivering in New York City was sketchy at the best of times, but the money was good, and Blaine would never complain about all the free pizza.

Currently, the pair were using their limited free time together to unpack their kitchenware. They chatted continuously while they worked, rarely a lull in the conversation, and comfortable silence whenever there was. Eventually, they got on the subject of Blaine’s birthday.

“Your birthday is in three days!?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Yes…?” Blaine replied, not understanding what the big deal was.

“We have to celebrate! I can’t believe you never said anything!” Sam exclaimed. “Wait, how old are you going to be?” Sam had been held back a year in elementary school due to his struggles with dyslexia, and often forgot that many of his peers tended to be younger than him.

“Twenty-one,” Blaine said. 

Sam slammed the container in his hands on the counter, and Blaine was grateful he’d only been holding tupperware. 

“Your twenty-first birthday is in three days and you didn’t tell me until now? I don’t have enough time to plan that kind of party!” Sam was looking a little panicked. Blaine held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture.

“I don’t need a big party,” he said. “I don’t  _ want  _ a big party. I’m not big into drinking, you know that.” He had had a beer here and there at a superbowl party or a friend’s birthday, but the party scene wasn’t for him. Blaine prefered to spend quality time with just a few friends, and the idea of binge-drinking was in all honesty a little frightening to him.

Sam picked the tupperware back up and put it in it’s place in the cupboard. “Hmm, that’s true,” he finally said. “Still, you should at least go out and have  _ one  _ legal drink.”

Blaine was about to respond when Sam started talking again.

“Oh, I know!” he said, grabbing his phone and obviously excited. “My buddy Kurt from high school works at a bar not too far from here. It’s a really chill place; you’ll love it. I’ll see if he’s working that night.”

“Okay,” Blaine said simply, realizing his friend had already decided his fate. It could be worse, Blaine thought. Going out and having one drink didn’t sound bad at all. Especially after all the stress of moving.

* * *

 

On the night itself, Blaine found himself a little anxious. None of Blaine’s other friends had been able to make it to the gathering on such short notice, but a few of Sam’s had. Tina (“we made out once in high school. It was weird”) was a close friend of Sam’s that Blaine had met once before. Santana (“kind of a bitch but will go to the end of the world for the people she cares about”) was also going to be there.

Blaine was grateful that it would be a small number of people, but he wished he was going into it knowing more than one person.

He wore one of his favorite outfits that night. A pair of shorts that were comfortable but he knew showed off his ass, a short-sleeved button down that hugged his biceps just right, and one of his favorite bow ties.

They arrived at the dimly lit bar, and a decent band was playing loudly from the stage. Being a Thursday night, there was a sizable crowd but nothing overwhelming. Sam waved excitedly over to the bar, and the bartender gave a small wave back.

Shaker in his hand, this bartender - who he could only assume was Kurt - was the most beautiful man Blaine had ever laid eyes on. He was tall and lean with just the right amount of muscle, perfectly swept hair and a captivating smile. As they got closer to the bar, Blaine noticed that Kurt had stunning blue eyes. Or were they green? Blaine couldn’t tell in the shitty bar lighting, but he did know that they were practically hypnotizing. Focused and intelligent.... and staring right at him. Before Blaine had a chance to be embarrassed, Sam was pulling Kurt in for an awkward over-the-bar hug. 

“So you’re the birthday boy,” Kurt said to him after he and Sam had exchanged a few words of greeting. Blaine hoped that the dim lighting would also conceal his blush.

“That’d be me,” he said.

“Well,” Kurt said with a smile, “Hand over your ID, and we’ll get you a drink.”

Blaine clumsily fished his wallet out of his pocket and pulled his recently-renewed state ID, having ditched the driver license since moving to the city. He handed it over to Kurt and felt his heart rate pick up when their fingers brushed. Kurt studied the card for a moment, then handed it back to him.

“Yup, that’s you,” he said with a smile that made Blaine’s knees wobble. “So what are you having?”

Blaine shrugged and looked up at Sam. He knew nothing about liquor.

“A Heineken and a shot for both of us” Sam said to Kurt. “Give him something easy, he’s practically a virgin.” Blaine blushed again, but Kurt just nodded.

While Kurt was off making their drinks Tina and Santana joined them. Tina gave him a brief hug that would have been awkward had she not been so innately friendly. Santana had just simply looked at him and said, “Am I already drunk, or am I actually looking at a grown man in children’s clothing?”

“Be nice, Santana,” Tina chastised, but Blaine could tell there had been no real malice behind the comment and laughed.

Kurt returned with his and Sam’s drinks, setting two shot glasses down in front of them followed by two bottles of beer.

“French Kamikazes,” he said. “Chambord, vodka, triple sec, and lime juice. It’s a good first shot; it won’t burn your throat, but it still has a decent amount of booze in it.”

Blaine picked up the tiny glass and sniffed the drink. It smelled like raspberries. “All right,” he said. Feigning confidence so he hopefully wouldn’t look like a fool in front of Kurt and his friends, he clinked his glass to Sam’s and downed the shot as quickly as he could.

Kurt had been right. The shot was smooth and fruity, but not overly so.

“That… wasn’t awful,” Blaine finally said, and everyone laughed.

“Kurt, will you-” Tina began.

“I know, I know,” Kurt cut her off. “A Long Island for you and a double Jack and diet, for Santana. It’s like you think I don’t even know you.” Tina shrugged as Kurt left to make their drinks.

After the girls had their drinks they sat talking at the bar, Kurt passing by every once in a while to grab this or that. Blaine’s eyes always watched him, especially when Kurt was turned around and he had a view of the bartender’s glorious ass. He hoped no one noticed his staring.

When their drinks were running on empty, Kurt stopped back over to bring them more, everyone switching up their orders except Tina, who apparently had a deep love for her Long Island iced teas.

Blaine was presented with a Captain and coke, the spiced rum bringing new life to the soda. The alcohol also brought new life to Blaine. Starting to feel the effects of the shot at this point, he was loose, warm, and relaxed. He found himself laughing louder and smiling more.

“Shot ski!” Tina yelled at one point, and next thing Blaine knew all four of them were simultaneously doing key-lime pie shots off of a wooden ski. He didn’t question it; he just laughed when a good amount of the shot dripped down Sam’s face, since he was the tallest out of all of them and therefore on the most awkward angle.

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter, drinking, a little bit of dancing, and more laughter. While Blaine had originally meant to only have a drink or two, he found himself wanting more and more. Luckily, Sam had stopped drinking after the shot ski and remained relatively sober to keep him in check, making sure he drank water and didn’t get too out of control. 

The girls were on one of their many bathroom trips, and Blaine was telling Sam a very exciting story about his History of Musical Theatre class, flailing his arms wildly when Kurt came back over to them. 

“Having fun?” Kurt asked with a chuckle, and Blaine suddenly became very aware how annoying he’d become.

He’d watched people get drunk before. Been annoyed himself by the way they acted. Now he was no better. And worse, he had become that obnoxious in front of  _ Kurt.  _ Kurt, the beautiful bartender who now apparently was part of his social circle, and who he feared he would never be able to look in the face again. Somehow his feelings didn’t affect his actions.

“I’m great!” Blaine exclaimed happily. And Kurt refilled his water glass.

Only Tina came back from the bathroom, saying that Santana had spied a hot girl across the bar and went to make a move. Half an hour later the group spied them leaving together, hand in hand.

“I hope she at least keeps it to her bedroom this time,” a voice said behind him, and they all swivelled around to face Kurt. “I don’t want to have to disinfect the kitchen counters again.”

At Blaine’s quizzical look, Sam explained, “Santana is one of Kurt’s roommates.” Blaine felt a sudden pang of jealously for Santana.

What would it be like to live with Kurt? See him in the morning, rumpled from sleep and totally relaxed? To sit on the couch next to him and watch a movie or TV show? What does Kurt look like while he’s cooking? If it’s half as good as he looks while he’s making drinks, then he simply couldn't understand how Santana was a lesbian.

Suddenly realizing how creepy his thoughts were and that he had been staring even more creepily at Kurt’s chest -  _ not  _ imagining what it would be like to use it as a pillow - he said, “I need more water.” Sam pushed his full glass toward him.

When the bar finally closed for the night and they gathered themselves to go home, Blaine was feeling significantly more sober. They said their goodbyes to Kurt, who shook Blaine’s hand and said, “I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

Blaine hoped so.

* * *

When Blaine and Sam got back to their apartment, Blaine passed out in his bed immediately. He woke up a couple times throughout the night, feeling dizzy and definitely still drunk, so he just rolled over and went back to sleep.

When he awoke in the morning, he was pleasantly surprised to find he did not feel like death. He was in desperate need of a glass of water, a toothbrush, and a shower, but he didn’t have a headache and he certainly didn’t feel like he was going to throw up. He must have stopped drinking earlier than he thought.

Sitting up in his bed, he found a bottle of water on his night stand. God bless Sam Evans. He quickly cracked it open and downed half of it in one go, then decided he really, really needed to pee.

After taking care of his hygiene and feeling fully human again, Blaine made his way to the kitchen and started preparing a hearty breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon as a thank-you to Sam.

It wasn't long before Blaine's roommate stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, awakened by the aroma of the cooking breakfast. He grabbed at a fresh piece of bacon before Blaine could warn him, and proceeded to drop it immediately, cursing.

“So how are you feeling this morning?” Sam asked, licking the hot grease from his burned fingers. Blaine piled a plate high with pancakes, over-easy eggs, and bacon for his friend.

“Surprisingly good,” Blaine said. “I expected it to be a lot worse than this.” Sam was busy smothering his breakfast with butter and syrup.

“Yeah well,” he said, mouth full. “You didn’t have any more to drink after midnight. I figured it was probably time to cut you off started literally drooling over Kurt’s butt.” Blaine dropped his fork and his jaw. Like a deer caught in headlights, he panicked.

“I did not!” he protested, and Sam laughed at him.

“Close enough,” he retorted around another mouthful. Blaine dropped his head into his hands, feeling his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning.

“Was I really that obvious?” he asked.

“Well,” Sam replied, “You certainly weren’t supple.”

“Subtle,” Blaine corrected with a groan.

“Yeah, that,” Sam said. Then, sensing his friend’s agony, continued, “Dude, it’s okay. Kurt’s a hot piece of ass; I’d be all over that if I was gay.” Blaine laughed humorlessly, focusing on his plate.

“He was checking you out too, you know,” Sam added, and Blaine’s head snapped up.

“He was not,” Blaine said, blushing even darker.

“He was too!” Sam insisted. "Santana texted me this morning saying Kurt kept going on and on about how your bow tie made him ‘want to unwrap you’.” He added the last bit in finger quotes, and Blaine thought he was actually going to die of embarrassment.

He said nothing, going back to eating his breakfast. Maybe this wasn’t such a disaster. He could work with this. As he finished up his meal, he began devising a plan to woo Kurt.

* * *

The first time he called the bar, a girl answered. He simply asked what their specials were going to be that evening. Then he waited 20 minutes.

The second time he called, the same girl answered, so he lowered his voice and put on a Boston accent, asking where they were located.

See, Blaine needed to figure out if Kurt was working that night without asking anyone if Kurt was working that night. He didn’t want Sam to mention that he’d asked to Santana or Tina, or worse, Kurt himself. Blaine had a plan, and he didn’t want anyone interfering with it.

The third time Blaine called, Kurt himself answered. Blaine hung up with just a flustered “Sorry, wrong number.” He hoped Kurt hadn’t recognized his voice.

Blaine’s plan had two stages. Stage one was to bring him a plate of his famous death-by-chocolate fudge brownies, which were in the oven at the moment. Blaine had settled many an argument with these brownies. His mom used to say she could never be mad at him as long as there was cocoa powder in the house. Stage two was to wing it.

So yeah, there was really only half a plan, but Blaine knew how to flirt. Blaine was  _ good  _ at flirting when he wanted to be, and when he was sober, of course. Knowing Kurt was already interested, Blaine didn’t feel like he needed to do anything grandiose or dramatic to win his attention. So Blaine would simply go down to the bar and ask him to dinner. 

Around 7:30, Blaine made his way down to the bar, hoping to beat the Friday night crowd. There was already a decent amount of people there when he arrived, but nothing crazy. Kurt was polishing a few glasses behind the bar. Blaine took just a moment to appreciate the view, then made his way across the pub, plate of brownies in hand. In a moment of spontaneity, he had wrapped up a note under the plate in the plastic wrap there. It said  _ “This bow tie is ready to unravel whenever you are.” _

With his country-club confidence, Blaine walked straight up to the bar, setting the plate down in front of Kurt. Kurt looked up, surprised.

“Well, hello again,” He said, and Blaine smiled brightly, despite the fact that his heart was hammering in his chest.

“Hi!” he said. “I wanted to bring these to you as a thank-you.” He gestured to the brownies.

“For…?” Kurt asked, setting down the glass and rag that he had been holding. 

“Putting up with my annoying, drunk ass last night,” Blaine said with a laugh, and Kurt smiled.

“You’re welcome, then. I can never say no to sweets,” Kurt replied, and Blaine gave himself a mental high-five. Kurt set the plate on the counter behind the bar, then turned back to him. “You weren’t that bad, honestly. I deal with way more obnoxious people every weekend.” Kurt subtly gestured to a girl at a table across the room, clearly already a few drinks into her night. “She ends up throwing up in the bathroom almost every time she comes in, which is a lot,” Kurt said. Blaine grimaced.

“Yikes,” he said.

“You are, however,” Kurt continued with a sly smile, “One of the best dancers I’ve seen in here.” Blaine blushed at that, but did his best to play it off smoothly.

“Sometimes the rhythm just gets the best of you, you know?” he said with a playful shrug.

“Oh, I know,” Kurt said. There was a small pause in the conversation, and Blaine took it as his opportunity to really make a move.

“Look, I can’t lie. I did have another reason for coming back here tonight besides the apology brownies,” he confessed. 

“Oh?” Kurt asked, a knowing smile quirking his lips.

“I was also hoping I could get your number,” Blaine said, surprisingly suave for all the nervousness he was feeling. “And I wanted to see if you’d like to get dinner with me this weekend.” Blaine was relieved when Kurt smiled brightly.

“Unfortunately, weekend dinners aren’t really good for me, since I have to be here in the evenings,” He said, and Blaine’s confidence wavered for a moment before Kurt continued. “But I’d love to do lunch on Sunday if you’re available.” Blaine grinned widely, reflecting Kurt’s expression.

“Lunch on Sunday it is, then,” Blaine said. “And about that number…?”

“Company policy actually prevents me from giving that out,” Kurt said, then he set a napkin down in front of Blaine, and held out a pen to him. “But it doesn’t say anything about accepting them from cute guys who dance like their grandma would never see.” Still smiling, Blaine accepted the pen from him, letting their fingers brush purposefully this time.

He quickly wrote down his name and phone number, and slid the napkin back towards Kurt. Kurt gave it a quick glance before pocketing it.

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow, then, Blaine Anderson,” he said flirtatiously.

“I’ll be waiting,” Blaine replied, just as coquettish. He dared to throw Kurt a wink, then turned around and strutted out of the bar. 

When the door shut behind him, Blaine let all the tension out of his body with a deep breath, then allowed himself a victory dance. Just as quickly as he’d started, he stopped. He realized that in the light of the soon-to-set sun, he’d be visible out the glass doors. He whipped around and saw Kurt, still behind the bar, laughing with his hand over his mouth. Blaine simply blew him a kiss and walked away, pulling out his phone to text Sam. He was already vibrating with anticipation for Sunday.


End file.
